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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708936">Density</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvske/pseuds/dvske'>dvske</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Oxenfree (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drowning Mention, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Michael is Brought Back, Post-Canon, Siblings, Time Loop, Trauma, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:35:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvske/pseuds/dvske</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>”Do you remember dying?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>”You ask me that every time.”</em>
</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Michael and Alex, killing time at the local pool.</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex &amp; Michael (Oxenfree)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Density</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’ve been very fixated on this game, as of late.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On nights when fighting ruptures the house at its seams, he coaxes Alex out of bed.</p>
<p>Easy enough. She's always awake, awaiting.</p>
<p>Her footsteps ring heavy as he leads her through hallway to attic roof to a harried descent into the yard. Beach towels, slung over tense shoulders. Bare feet digging craters into soil and grass. Their parents' splintering shouts eventually shrink in the distance, one that never seems enough.</p>
<p>They make do.</p>
<p>Then a quick hop over Camena Community's fence, tension fading as they take perch at pool's edge and dip weary feet into the water. Gentle waves jostle fluorescent reflections, the stars, the moonlight.</p>
<p>And they'll sit.</p>
<p>And they'll watch.</p>
<p>And they'll wait, though for what usually varies.</p>
<p>Sometimes, it's Alex whistling some sleepy, unfamiliar tune Michael swears he's caught her humming before. Sometimes, it's Michael kicking his feet up and down in a steadily increasing beat, water splashing in crude arcs. Sometimes (too often), it's simply Alex loosing a withered sigh before leaning onto her brother's shoulder; Michael (too often), hooking her under his arm.</p>
<p>Most times, it's nothing. Just time, passing.</p>
<p>Tonight: Michael slouches into the pool and succumbs to gravity's course with eyes closed, and he sinks,</p>
<p>and sinks,</p>
<p>sinks...</p>
<p>There's a frightening familiarity to it.</p>
<p>He rests at the bottom, hugging knees to his chest. Waiting, weightless. Without thought.</p>
<p>Odd how utter submersion's enough to clear his mind. Not that it's always running at this breakneck tilt, but it's been getting harder these days, these nights. These moments, Alex near enough to feel like home yet closed enough to be a stranger.</p>
<p>She barely smiles anymore. No one does, like there's rot in the air.</p>
<p>But it's comforting here, in the depths.</p>
<p>He's sunken long enough to be delirious for air, and it's only when he breaks surface and folds quivering arms atop the tile that Alex deigns to speak. "<em>Do you remember dying?"</em></p>
<p>And he holds her gaze, notes the exhaustion there, unable to fight back his own. <em>"You ask me that every time."</em></p>
<p>
  <em>"You remember other times."</em>
</p>
<p>It's not a question. Never is.</p>
<p>Rinse and repeat.</p>
<p>Long pause before Michael finally admits to the pangs of memory that strike him when he least expects—</p>
<p>
  <em>brambles clawing and clogging up his throat, his voice coming to a choking halt, the cling and ache of darkness, numb sensation overtaking each limb, the relentless drag and bite and sting of water that keeps carving, carving, eating at his lungs until</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>sputtering release</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>his struggling, done</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>his name, shrill and sharp as Alex screams it into an indifferent void,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>as he sinks,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>sinks,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>sinks</em>
</p>
<p>—but there's a lot he leaves out.</p>
<p>There's a lot more he reads in her stony expression. Like she already knows. Like she's heard it all before.</p>
<p>Then she eventually breaks her gaze, lets it linger on the water towards something unseen. Silence floods the air instead.</p>
<p>Rinse, repeat...</p>
<p>There's a lot she leaves out too.</p>
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